


A Humble Bard's Graceless Ride

by Anonymous



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Desperation, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Omorashi, Poor Girl, Wetting, because they dont realy like. talk about anything, but everyone is havin a good time dw, but no Roaches were harmed in the making of this fic, except for maybe roach, god idk this is my first time posting fic im confused and terrified, i think, if this needs more tags lmk, if u dont think this warrants the explicit rating it will later
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:40:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25656799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Jaskier once again gets himself and Geralt chased out of town due to a poor choice of bedmate. But as it turns out, one should always use the privybeforeone sets out on a mad dash for one's freedom...- -I present this to you unedited, unbeta'd, and without comment. Enjoy.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 16
Kudos: 183
Collections: Anonymous





	A Humble Bard's Graceless Ride

What had been a very pleasant evening was turning quickly into a very unpleasant night. Yes, Jaskier knew that the lovely young maiden he had taken to bed that night was engaged to be married and yes, he knew she was the local lord’s daughter and, _yes_ , he did know the risks of that, thank you very much--he wasn’t stupid. Just a smidge hedonistic. Maybe a tad reckless. Perhaps even impulsive, if one was feeling particularly non-charitable. People, unfortunately, often were.

Regardless, being chased out of a manor house hastily dressed and still flushed was not new to Jaskier. Nor was being rudely awoken and asked to leave in the middle of the night new to Geralt. Jaskier wasn’t worried. The murderous look Geralt threw at him upon hearing his story wasn’t the _worst_ one he’d ever been on the receiving end of, and that cuff to the back of his head while saddling Roach _could_ have been accidental.

And, anyway, the fact that Geralt was still with him at all instead of comfortably spending the rest of his night in a warm bed said more than any look ever could.

They managed to escape the city walls before word got out that anyone should stop them. The lord’s forces were scattered and uncoordinated due to the late hour, and it gave the two of them an invaluable head-start against the few mounted guards sent after them. Jaskier wasn’t entirely sure as to their plans if they caught up--there was a lot of yelling and general threatening on his way out of the manor, but he had been rather distracted--and he didn’t want to find out. But Roach outpaced the guards’ horses easily, even through the darkness and rough terrain. Not for the first time, Jaskier wondered if Geralt was secretly slipping witcher potions into her food, or something. The mare's sure-footedness and strength even in such poor conditions was simply uncanny. Whether natural or not, it was very useful, and soon Geralt eased them to a stop at a flat spot near a stream. Jaskier twisted to look at Geralt over his shoulder.

“Safe?” he asked, voice pitched low to match the quiet of the woods.

“Mmh.” Geralt replied in the affirmative as he swung off Roach’s back. Jaskier couldn’t help his wide grin as he also dismounted, a little sheepish but mostly exhilarated at yet another narrow escape. When Geralt caught sight of it, he merely scowled and shoved the bedrolls into Jaskier's hands. It didn’t deter his good mood in the least, however, and he began to re-settle them for the night with a happy tune on his lips while Geralt de-tacked Roach.

Jaskier was just getting comfortable in his bedroll when Geralt suddenly froze and cocked his head to the side. Jaskier stilled, too; he knew by now that when Geralt reacted like that it meant there was a potential threat. Geralt’s face twisted into a grimace and he rounded on Jaskier, stalking towards him. 

“Damnit, bard,” he growled, “would it kill you to keep it in your pants for _one_ night.”

Jaskier’s stomach dropped, worried that he had managed to take things too far this time, and Geralt was going to abandon him in the woods after all. He put up his hands and ducked his head in a placating gesture.

“Now, now, Geralt, it’s not all that bad, is it?” He said, affecting a soothing tone. “This is a fine place to camp, and it’s a lovely night, and it was my coin that paid for the room anyway so I really don’t see--wait, what are you doing?”

Geralt had barreled right past him and was re-rolling his bedroll. He said something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like "dog."

" _What_ did you call me?" 

Geralt stood up, bedroll in hand, and glared down at him. 

" _Dogs._ They've sent fucking _hunting dogs_ after us, Jaskier." 

Jaskier suddenly felt cold all over. "Oh." 

Geralt jerked his head in the direction of Roach. "We need to leave." 

Jaskier scrambled to his feet and began to haphazardly repack his things. Once he was done securing everything to Roach's saddle, Geralt fisted his hands in the back of Jaskier's doublet and lifted him up onto his thighs, as easily as if he were scruffing an unruly puppy. Jaskier shot him a questioning look, worried about Roach's back. "We still need to be going faster than you can walk," Geralt said in explanation, "and i dont want you sitting on her kidneys all night. Try not to fall off." And with that, he spurred Roach into a trot. Jaskier tried his best to follow instructions. 

He never did hear the dogs, just the sounds of Roach's hooves and breath and the ambience of the forest at night. She must have been as good as blind, but Geralt wasn't, and he was leading her expertly over roots and around dips in the forest floor. Their bond was something truly amazing to witness. The sheer synergy the two had was like nothing Jaskier had ever seen. If he weren't so uncomfortable, he might try and put it to poetry. But all his energy was being spent on staying balanced on the horse and bouncing in time with her gait, his thighs clamped tight around Geralt's and his hands clinging for dear life to the front edge of the saddle. While he had pictured himself more than once bouncing in Geralt's lap, this wasn't exactly what he had in mind. As if that wasn't enough, he was slowly becoming aware of a new problem settling uncomfortably in his gut. 

"Geralt," he whispered, knowing the witcher would hear him, "are they still chasing us?" 

"Are we still running?" Geralt growled back. Testy, but he had a right to be, Jaskier supposed. He squirmed a little on the witcher's lap and tried to bring his thighs a bit closer together, but to no avail. 

"Do you think we could afford, ah, perhaps a quick little pit stop?" 

"No." 

A thread of desperation began to creep into Jaskier's voice. "Come on, Geralt, I'll be quick, just--" 

"Jaskier," Geralt interrupted him in a warning tone. Jaskier huffed a little, but relented.

"Alright, then, fine. Guess I'll just soldier on." He didn’t bother to hide his resentment. 

Geralt didn't answer. 

Jaskier did his level best to ignore his bladder, he really did, but having his thighs spread over Geralt's broad lap while jostling on a horse did not exactly make things easy. With each bounce he could feel the heaviness in his bladder pressing against his lower belly, seeming to get fuller by the minute. Within a short time it had progressed from being an uncomfortable pressure to a downright ache. He was unsubtly squirming, tensing and untensing his thighs, and fighting the urge to hold his cock outright. 

"Jaskier. Hold still." Geralt growled out.

"I _can't_ ," Jaskier whined, and it was true. Stilling his movements would surely result in leakage, which had to be a lot worse for everyone involved than a little wiggling. 

"You're making it harder on Roach than it already is." 

Jaskier's face twisted into a grimace. Annoying the witcher was practically his job at this point, but Roach didn’t deserve this. He sighed in resignation. "Sorry, Roach, I'll…" He didn't know what, exactly. He clenched all the muscles in his lower body and redoubled his efforts to hold still. 

That lasted about ten minutes or so. 

Oh, Gods, but it was getting worse; his belly was throbbing and the tip of his cock was stinging with the need to just _let go_ , and it was sheer willpower holding the floodgates closed. He felt so swollen and full, could practically feel his bladder sitting heavy like a stone in his abdomen. He let out a shaky breath and rocked a little, trying to get just a little helping pressure on his cock… 

Geralt immediately switched the reins to one hand and clamped his now freed arm around Jaskier's stomach. 

"I said _still_ , bard." 

Jaskier let out a pinched little sound and his hand flew immediately to his crotch, squeezing down in an attempt to staunch the newest wave of need. Geralt's arm around him was a new form of torture. He was panting with it, and when he squeezed his eyes shut he felt tears pricking at the corners. Waves of heat chased by chill rolled from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. He leaned forward, putting firmer pressure on his cock, but Geralt yanked him back up. 

"Up here, bard, until we stop." 

Jaskier whined. "I can't, Geralt, really I can't." 

"Hush, or you'll lead them right to us." 

Jaskier wiggled in his grip again and held back another pained sound. "Please, Geralt, please can we stop." 

"They're too close. Do you really want them to catch you with your pants down? _Again?_ " 

A new wave of need hit Jaskier, sending a sharp pain through his lower abdomen and cock, and he squeezed tighter with his hand. Sitting there, flushed, panting, and desperate, spread out over Geralt's thighs, hand fisted desperately over his cock--oh, it was a sick parody of every sordid dream and fantasy he'd ever had about his witcher. He almost laughed, but all that came out was a whimper. Once he let the tiny sound free, he couldn't stop; each exhale was a punched-out and pitiful sound as Roach's footfalls jarred him and sent pulses of pain and urgency through his abdomen. Geralt wound the reins around the saddlehorn and pressed his hand to Jaskier's mouth, but that just made things _worse_ , because it made the awful corner of his brain that was turned on by this grow only larger. Involuntarily he bucked into his own hand and moaned against the warm leather of Geralt's glove. In response Geralt only held him tighter. 

Jaskier was as taut as a bowstring, trying desperately not to leak onto Geralt's lap, for surely that would get him tossed off the horse and left to deal with the angry lord and his dogs alone. If something else didn't get to him first. Geralt was tense around him, too; he was still steering Roach with his thighs and doing no small part in keeping Jaskier upright. And Jaskier's traitorous cock was stiffening, reacting to Geralt wrapped so tight around him, firm beneath his thighs and at his back. At least with his cock half-hard in his breeches, it was a little easier not to piss himself. 

He suddenly had an idea that he blamed entirely on lack of sleep and desperation. But desperate times call for desperate measures, as they say, and if this wasn't a desperate time… 

He began to deliberately palm at his cock, coaxing himself even harder than he was before. He could still feel his overfull bladder pressing uncomfortably against his waistband, and need still settled heavily in his gut, but he no longer felt as though he were about to lose control any second. His desperation was, surprisingly, not hindering his arousal at all. In fact, it almost seemed to be enhancing it, and he had no trouble at all keeping himself on the edge and away from any potential accidents. Slowly, in small increments, he began to relax his tight posture. It was easier for him to ride this way and he felt Geralt's hold on him loosen just the tiniest bit. For a while they stayed in this fragile equilibrium, Jaskier leaning back against Geralt's front and panting against his gloved hand, slowly stroking his own cock. If Geralt noticed the reason behind his decreased urgency, he didn't say anything. Jaskier was floating, skirting around the edges of his own bliss, focused on nothing but holding out until he was able to get his release and relief.

He was ripped from his reverie when Roach splashed into a shallow stream. A new fire tore through his guts and he quickly tensed, hand squeezing on his cock, but he wasn't quick enough. He felt a short spurt of piss release into his smallclothes, turning the material warm and wet against the head of his cock. Frantically he began pawing at Geralt's hand. Sensing Jaskier's renewed desperation, Geralt relented. 

"Geralt," Jaskier panted as soon as his mouth was free, "Geralt, I really can't hold it any longer, I _can't_ \--" Roach was walking briskly along the streambed, water splashing and swishing around her hooves, and it was driving him mad. 

"Then don't." Geralt replied gruffly, and made no move to stop. Jaskier's eyes widened and he began shaking his head as he realized what the witcher was implying. 

"No, Geralt, you can't mean--" 

"We don't have a lot of options, Jaskier." The witcher was speaking lowly in his ear. "They've been gaining on us. I can hear their chainmail clinking." 

Jaskier whimpered and cursed. 

"The water will throw them off the scent. We can travel along it for a while longer, before it bends towards the next town. They'll assume we're heading there. But we'll branch off in the other direction. We can escape them, we just have to keep moving." 

"And you don't--you won't. Mind?" 

"We're out of options," Geralt said again. When Jaskier still didn’t move, he peeled Jaskier's hand from his crotch and pressed it to the bard’s chest. Jaskier instinctively tensed, but the effect was immediate anyway, a long spurt of piss flooding his breeches before he regained control. 

"You'll feel better," Geralt said, almost gently. "And we'll be able to ride faster." 

Jaskier whimpered, desperate and ashamed and horribly turned on. But, he supposed, at this point he could either piss himself on his own terms or wait until his body gave out on its own. He resigned himself to his fate Slowly, consciously, he relaxed all his muscles, leaning back into Geralt's embrace.

And nothing happened. 

As desperate as he was, he just couldn't fully let go, not still clothed and sitting in his friend's lap. He listened to the sounds of the water and took deep breaths to try and relax further, but it didn’t help. But Gods, did it _hurt_ , and he let out an involuntary groan. Geralt, sensing the problem, squeezed his arm tighter around Jaskier's middle, causing another sound to escape his throat. 

"Shh," Geralt scolded him. "Hurry, bard." 

It took a few more pained seconds of concentration, but finally, _finally_ , his piss began to flow from his cock in a small trickle, and he didn't stop it. He let out a massive breath of relief and pushed, strengthening the stream. His smallclothes were completely soaked in warmth and a wet patch was forming on the front of his trousers. As his body relaxed more it was picking up force, beginning to hiss against the saddle. 

"Good," Geralt said, and it was so bizarre, being praised for pissing himself, but it went through him like lightning. Jaskier gasped and clung desperately to Geralt's hand--still pressed over his own on top of his chest--and Geralt's thigh. Piss was slowly soaking down his legs and into his boots, covering him in warmth. He was shaking with relief and he didn't even have it in him to be ashamed anymore. It seemed to go on forever, the relief morphing into pleasure that started deep in his stomach and radiated out to his tingling limbs. When it was over he slumped, resulting in Geralt needing to practically hold him up. He was blissed out and relaxed and each rock of the saddle was sending little shocks of pleasure up his spine, so it was almost without thinking that he moved to touch his cock--

Only for his hand to be snatched by Geralt and replaced firmly onto his thigh. 

"Your cock has gotten us into enough trouble tonight, bard” Geralt growled. “I think we'd better leave it alone, don't you?"

Jaskier barely held back a pitiful keen, remembering their pursuers just in time. This was going to be the longest ride of his life.

**Author's Note:**

> this fic kinda grew legs on me so there miiight be another chapter of this, if anyone is interested


End file.
